Sweat
by HeavenlyBodies
Summary: porn, wanking, and Arthur's pauldron with special appearances by various other pieces of Arthur's armour


**Disclaimer:** Not mine, never have been, never will be  
**Warnings/Squicks:** PWP, armour!kink (no armour was hurt or damaged in the production of this fanwork)

**AN1:** Written for The Merlin Wankfest of 2011 for the following prompt: _Merlin/pauldron/Arthur I don't care what, so long as it involves Merlin getting off somehow on/with/cleaning/because of Arthur's pauldron and Arthur watching/catching/whatever Merlin- joining in or catching each other out is always of the awesome, but whatever just gimme some pauldron!love!_ (why, yes, this was my prompt, why do you ask?)  
**AN1b:** due to a conversation with Toasty, yes, I wound up filling my own bloody prompt *head desk*  
**AN2:** 'm pretty much throwing "my word thing" out the window here, sometimes you just HAVE to use words like "pre-cum" and damn the anachronisticity, lol. (Ohhhh, lookit, I can make up words, too!)

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Merlin's forehead was pressed against the heat warmed metal of Arthur's pauldron. His breath coming in short needy spurts. Arthur's name lingering dangerously on his lips as his lust addled brain thought back on what brought him here.

Arthur had been training. In the middle of one of the hottest August days in recent memory, Arthur had been _training_- the prat. Merlin had gathered Arthur's spare spaulder, vambraces, and couters and settled in the would-be shade of the castle wall to work as he watched Arthur train. The sun was high and hot, falling down like a heavy unseen blanket over Camelot, heating the armour in Merlin's hands to almost painful proportions. Not that he noticed, he was too busy watching Arthur.

In the sunlight, Arthur gleamed like some mythical hero, his tanned skin wet with sweat, his hair two shades darker, but every bit as alluring. Merlin watched, lost in the smooth arc of Arthur's arm as he delivered a sharp blow, the curl and twist of his back as he drove his opponent's weapon to the ground, the heavy panting breaths, and the way his chest rose and fell heavily between bouts. He knew all of Arthur's moves by heart, he knew his weaknesses (few though they were) and his strengths. He knew Arthur. He knew how his body felt after a long day on the training fields. Or a longer day spent with his father in endless meetings and councils. Or the rare times he got to be Arthur. He knew the kinks and sores, he knew the aches from injuries no one so young should have suffered, and he knew the soft look in Arthur's eyes when all those aches and sores and strains melted away.

Shaking himself, Merlin broke his gaze and focused on the armour in his lap. He was almost finished with the couters, turning them in the sunlight to check for any missed blemishes, when a shadow blocked his view. He smiled, and looked up expecting to see Arthur, but his normal biting remark dying on his tongue. Arthur stood in front of him sweaty and breathless, but all Merlin could see was a drop of sweat glistening off his pauldron. Merlin's eyes followed the salty trail it left over the finely etched curve of metal before darting up to see the loose strand of sweat darkened hair it had fallen from. His gaze was suddenly pulled away by the slow trickle of another bead of sweat rolling down Arthur's cheek, teasing at his jawline before sliding down the flushed length of his strong, taut neck. Merlin gulped, his mouth already dry from the heat, now dry for completely different reasons.

"Merlin."

Merlin watched Arthur's throat move constricting around words that he wasn't hearing, couldn't hear over the sound of his blood pumping through his veins- most of it running southward faster than a waterfall in springtime.

"Merlin?" Arthur repeated with a hint of exasperation, waving his hand in front of his servant's face. "I know you pride yourself on ignoring my orders, Merlin, but you could at least pay attention when I'm giving them."

With a slight start, "Sorry, Arthur, of course." He hoped he didn't look as flustered as he felt, "Uh, what was it you wanted?"

Arthur cocked his head looking at Merlin with his 'you _are_ being a moron today' look, waving a hand the length of his body, "To get out of this."

Merlin jumped up realizing he actually _was_ being an idiot, of course Arthur wanted out of his mail, who wouldn't in this weather. "Right," he gathered up the armour he'd been cleaning, positioning it to hide his growing arousal, and walked off in the opposite direction.

"Where do think you're going?" Arthur asked with an air of confused annoyance.

Turning, Merlin heaved the armour up jerkily, "Armoury," he answered. "You won't miss me; you won't even know I'm gone." Merlin called loudly as he continued to walk away from the prince.

Shaking his head, Arthur shrugged his shoulders in defeat the way he always did when Merlin was being, well, Merlin, and headed back to his chambers alone.

Merlin stumbled into the armoury dropping his load on the nearest bench. His hands closed around the edge of the table in a knuckle whitening grip as he tried to will his erection away. He was finally calming, breathing deeply as the needy ache from his cock began to subside; his eyes sliding closed in relief. Big mistake. The moment his eyes shut his mind was filled with images of Arthur, images of that single bead of sweat rolling down Arthur's armour.

He groaned as he felt his shaft begin to lengthen again at the memory. He tried to focus on the armour, and not Arthur, not the way sweat fell slowly down his throat begging to be kissed and licked away. Merlin let out a small whimper as he pressed himself through the fabric of his trousers. 'Armour,' he thought helplessly, 'armour.'The armour that he cleaned almost daily, his pauldron and the lines he knew so well. Even blind he would still know that pauldron; the smooth curling lines of its serpentine dragon, the round plump edges of a roaring lion, the double crowned banner above them. All so smooth and fine, just like their owner. The pauldron was Arthur's most ornate piece of armour, protecting his sword arm, deflecting blades and blows, anything aimed at his vulnerable shoulder. His pauldron that had had a single bead of sweat rolling down it. And just like that Merlin's mind was once more flooded with the images of that afternoon and he moaned in surrender as he hastily untied his trousers, freeing his cock. He bit back a cry as his overly sensitive flesh brushed against the table he was leaning against leaving a trail of pre-cum in its wake. Merlin closed his hand around his shaft with a satisfied sound of pleasure and began to pull in long, sure strokes. He knew he wouldn't last, was thankful for it. The sooner he could get rid of this, the sooner he could get back to Arthur, back to pretending everything was normal. A short, sharp moan burst from Merlin's lips as he drug his thumb across his slit almost painfully, spreading the moisture over his head then swiping his slit for more, slicking the passage of his fist. He thought about Arthur, if his hair would cling to his face wet with sweat the way it did after a long fight or if it would fall haphazardly dripping beads of sweat onto his partner. "Arthur," he whispered, stroking himself harder, twisting against his flesh irregularly. He thought about pressing his cheek into that tanned sweaty neck and just breathing in the scent of, "_Arthur_." He thought about that mouth, it's tongue so wicked with words and how wicked it would be on his skin, his thin red lips daring to be tasted and… His breath hitched, he was so close now just a few more strokes- three? four?- and he was coming. His orgasm hitting like a rockslide, hard and fast and unstoppable. His whole body jerked, releasing himself over his hand and the tabletop. He gasped for breath, his eyes going out of focus, his free hand gripping the table tightly as his knees fought to go out from under him.  
He started to fall, gravity winning against the force of his orgasm, when a strong arm wrapped around his chest holding him steady for a moment before turning him around gently. Merlin knew he should run, try to make some excuse, but his trousers where half way to his knees, and his brain was sated mush, so there was no point, really. He let himself be turned and wasn't all that surprised when a familiar gorget and that damned pauldron came into view. "Arthur," he choked, his face falling forward until it's pressed against the cool metal over Arthur's chest. He swallowed a humourless chuckle as he watched his breath fog over the polished plate giving the dragon the unnerving effect of fiery breath.

Arthur's hand came up, carding tenderly through Merlin's dark sable hair.

Merlin let out a small whimpering noise and clutched at Arthur's hauberk. He didn't understand, Arthur was here and he wasn't yelling or throwing things. He was… holding him for gods' sakes. Merlin didn't dare answer, so he held on tighter fisting the chainmail as hard as he could, feeling the metal links dig into his palms and not caring. Distantly he heard a sound repeating, over and over, like the thumping of his heart, or was it Arthur's?  
Finally, when his shuddering had stopped and his blood no longer rushed loudly in his ears, Merlin croaked out a whispered, "How long were you…"

Arthur's hand stilled for a moment, giving a final stroke before reaching down to cover Merlin's clenched fist. Gently, he pulled Merlin's hand free then guided it under his hauberk and pressed it against his wet crotch. He sucked in a breath at the unfamiliar touch, and he whispered, dark and husky, "Long enough."


End file.
